168 TROTTY'S WEDDING TOUR.

But Jake said nothing.

“ And I wonder that you did not lose the arm,” I said,
another day, when I was dressing the seraeae finger.

But Jake said nothing.

And another day, cheerily, “ Never sina Jake! Very
likely you will do twice as much with three fingers as you
would with four.”

But Jake said nothing at all.

One day Bob, the confidential, met and stopped me just
starting to see my diphtheria patients in the New parish.

“‘ Boy — on — behind!” shouted Bob, with an air of com-
municating a great secret, hidden from the world at large,
but especially revealed to his personal and unerring insight.
“ Boy — on — be-hi-i-ind !”

Sure enough. There was a boy on behind, —not a very
unusual sight, I must admit, on marm the doctor’s buggy, —
a boy with a mouth like a cable-rope, and eyes like stars on a
cloudy night, and three fingers on the left hand.

“Dear me, Jake!” said 1,—forI had not seen Jake for
some weeks. ‘ Hand all right?”

“ All right,” said Jake.

“ Quite healed ?”

“Yes, marm,” said Jake.

‘“¢ Where are you going ?”

“ Nowheres partikerlar.”’

«What did you want on behind my buggy ?”

“ Not much partikerlar.”’